If I Stay
by StardustIsMagic
Summary: She watched as his free hand ripped his mask off, as if the eye contact would have made an ounce of difference to his plea, and it did. His hair dishevelled, expression crumbling into pain, fear, determination and anxiety. He was crying too. "Just for once, for once in your damn life, for the joke of it all, let me save you!" - Peter/OC - Post TASM2
1. Prologue

_"Friendship is the only cement that will ever hold the world together. – Woodrow T. Wilson"_

* * *

The rapid deterioration of the Manhattan Bridge caused frenzy that day, an event so catastrophic that it seemed to set its mark beside the disaster of the 9/11, and as another rupturing explosion set off on another pillar further down, it caused an row of cars and civilians as well as the concrete bridge beneath it to tumble and perish below. Fire blazed from all areas of the bridge, trapping people within their own vehicles or in a circle of abandoned ones, screaming and crying filtered through Emily's ears. Soot covering her face, blood seeping from a gash on her head, the smell of smoke invading her lungs and choking her, her eyes watering than from more than just the poisonous smoke. Cars slid down the titled bridge, crashing into others and people as they fell into the water below.

Helicopters surrounding the bridges as they attempted to douse out the multiple fires, sirens could be heard within the distance, it was the centre of the bridge which suffered the most, blowing off both sides which could lead to safety, large chunks missing and hundreds dead as they descended below with it. Trains, cars, pedestrians, cyclists.

All of them.

And for what? A statement a mad man had set out to emphasize throughout several months, performing disastrous terrorist acts just like these, but until now on a smaller scale.

She had been on the train, iPod blaring music that she was basing her work on for a recital later in the year, and now here she was, the carriage balancing on the edge of the blown bridge, the carriages before her not being so lucky, and the carriages behind her more than lucky. She blinked, attempting to overcome the dizziness and disorientated feeling within her head; she must have hit it pretty hard. Previously she had been sat in a seat, and now she lay on the floor, beside the pole centred from the doors of the carriage, feeling the slight tilt of the carriage. Even now, in her feared and frantic state she knew better than to make any sudden movements, for even the slightest disruption could have caused the carriage to tumble down and kill the few people still alive within it.

Just like that, almost as if someone cruel force had heard her, another explosion occurred, and this time it came from the concrete and tracks beneath one of the carriages behind her. The fire and screams of everyone within the vicinity of the explosion caused not only her ear drums to nearly shatter, but lurched the carriage forward, glass windows and the doors at opposite ends of the carriage to shatter themselves.

The dread that filled her as the carriage moved faster and off the broken rails than she could have ever anticipated, her hands flying out to grasp the only thing she could have a chance of delaying her imminent death. Her small hands gripped onto the pole, the carriage continuing to fall, only for Emily to feel a lurch and recoil as the chain link connecting the carriages stopped it. Momentarily. It hung there; glass and bits of debris falling down through the carriage, and Emily could feel the luck that she had been granted thus far would eventually fade away. The carriage wouldn't hang there on that single link forever, and neither could she, her fingers already beginning to slip from the grip it had, and when she would eventually fall it the impact of her body at the bottom of the carriage would trigger the rest of it to fall. Sweat formed from not only her fear and nervousness, but from the blaring heat of the fires, and she could feel the horror gripping onto every fibre of her being, settling deep within her stomach and chest, causing the hairs on her body to stand up, her dark blonde bangs falling into her eyes as endless tears streamed down her soot ridden cheeks.

"Take my hand! Take it!"

Her dark brown eyes looked up to a pair of silver ones, his red gloved hand only just reaching out to her, still a little too far, and the brief feeling of joy and relief she felt upon seeing Peter's masked form was quickly gone. If she let go, she'd practically have to try and jump in order to reach his hand, and as she took notice of the broken contraption on his wrist, which he had once claimed he designed in order to spin webbing, she knew that's how he would have caught her if he could. His own form was covered in soot, and even though she couldn't see his face, she knew it would have emitted the same fear and panic her own face showed.

"I can't," she yelled, her head shaking as her fingers slipped just that little bit more on the pole, "and there are other people on this carriage, Peter."

"Shut up, don't say that and don't look at me like that! Take it!"

The pitch in his voice rose a little bit more, the strain evident within it as the string of web his other hand held onto descended up higher and higher out of the carriage, most likely being the only one he could now use. She shook her head more reverently, the pain from the gash on her head increasing, the sweat from her hands making her grip on the pole just that much looser.

"Emily!"

Peter screamed, the panic and desperation increasing, and she knew why, she knew so well. Because really, if you thought about it, the situation now and the situation he had once been in with Gwen weren't all that different, and she cried harder. For him, for herself, for the unfairness of her situation. Her eyes stinging from the smoke and dripping down from her chin onto her satin blouse, if she let go, if she tried to take his hand, she'd miss. She knew she would. And she wasn't about to let him waste his time on her when there were thousands of people on this train who needed his help. She was important to Peter Park, yes, but the entire city was important to Spider-Man.

"I won't catch it, Peter, you know I won't."

She watched as his free hand ripped his mask off, as if the eye contact would have made an ounce of difference to his plea, and it did. His hair dishevelled, expression crumbling into pain, fear, determination and anxiety. He was crying too.

"Just for once, for once in your damn life, for the fucking joke of it all, _let me save you!_"

And it would have almost been funny, how saying that now caused Emily to revert back to her first memory of Peter, her first meeting with him. How she had in fact been saved by him, not willingly, but not by Spider-Man either. No, he had saved her as himself, the nerdy and photography loving Peter Parker who sometimes played around on his skateboard, the boy who had an Einstein poster up in his bedroom. He did.

She felt the lurch of the train as the link began to waver, almost envisioning the strain on it as it begun to give away, and she made a choice.

* * *

**So yeah, I posted a one shot of this which was originally a song fic, and that has now become a fully fledged chapter, and here is a prologue of some sorts, I decided to make this a fully fledged story. I hope you enjoy this, and would seriously seriously love some reviews or feedback of some sorts! The actual story to this all will be a series of chapters of Emily and Peter's story leading up to this moment. Set after The Amazing Spider-Man 2! **


	2. Chapter One

_"The language of friendship is not words but meanings." – Henry David Thoreau_

* * *

A Year Earlier

The bustling chaos of New York City wasn't unfamiliar to Emily Davis, not so much the city itself, but the traffic, shouting cab drivers and busy sidewalks were similar to that of the City of London. She'd admit, it was a whole lot crazier than London, and would take several months to get used it. Especially in regards to learning her way around the city itself, the subway routes, where exactly her new University was. And most importantly; where her new job was located.

She continuously knocked into the shoulders of others, mostly due to being pushed around herself, as well as her attempt to read a map to navigate her way through New York, two months in and she still had no idea where she was going – and that first month was her summer sacrificed to get to know the area. Café Rouge was probably her saviour in this foreign concrete jungle, one thing she allowed her parents to assist her in was finding a job when she relocated from London to New York, and luckily enough her father knew a man who owned a string of Café's within the city. Back before that they had been fairly good friends, and had owned a restaurant together before she was born, up until the business crashed and this mysterious good friend moved to the States himself.

Her shoulder bag continuously bumped into people as she speed walked through the streets, now completely lost and frustrated, her dirty blond hair releasing from the bun she had tied it in lazily, strands falling down and sweat forming at the back of her neck. It was hot here too. Not the sun-shining type of hot, but the humid, sticky skin filled polluted air type of hot, and she hated it. Her other shoulder sported the strap of her violin case, and that was something she consciously attempted to keep from bumping into others due to its frailty. There was no way she'd be able to afford a new one should this break, and she highly doubted her University would be sympathetic to it. She didn't want to jeopardise her scholarship when her semester had only just begun.

"Watch it!" A pedestrian yelled as Emily stumbled over her own two feet, yelling out a sorry as she continued on.

"This is officially the worst day ever."

It began feeling like every day was one of those days where Emily sorely regretted moving away from home, she felt as if maybe she wasn't cut out for this, that it would take more than just talent to be able to stick it out through a foreign country for three years. Even if they did speak your native language. If she wanted to be able to live in New York while her University paid for tuition, then she had to get a decent job, of course that required her actually finding her workplace so she could begin paying her rent. Her savings weren't going to last forever.

Finding the café had been the easy part, mostly because she had just finished lectures for the day and a classmate had kindly helped to point her in the right direction. After thirty minute talk with one of the managers, as well as being shown around and ask to return on the weekend to learn the ropes, she had been set on her way. Getting back to her dorm campus is where her chaos begun and panic started setting in the moment she had stepped out of the café.

Her brown eyes scanned the constant crowds of people, only now just realising where she was' Times Square. The place was in the middle of its reconstruction and rebuilding due to as fight with the cities infamous vigilante, and a supposedly psychotic villain made out of electricity. That was what Emily had read when she moved here, and was silently cursing it as it made the Square three times as busier with traffic and people pushing through. She would have gotten a cab, only that seemed useless when every car in the city was in constantly stalled traffic mode, and she hoped that if she walked around long enough throughout the year she'd become accustomed to the streets. She hated herself for this logic.

It was a red light for cars, and as she began walking across the street with other New Yorkers she kept her eyes trained on the map, now attempting to find Times Square on it, as well as seeing how far it could possibly be from her campus. Horns blared and people continued to push into her shoulder as he walking slowed in order to actually read the map, trying to sort out the several layers of it. Her shoulder bag slipped slightly, falling down to her elbow, and as she halted to adjust it another person pushed into her. Paying Emily no heed they walked on, and luck had an extremely sick sense of humour as that final nudge caused her to trip over her own foot once again, causing her to go tumbling down right in the middle of the road. Her should bag flew to the floor, as well as her violin case, and the entire contents of her bag spilled out onto the concrete. The stack of maps surrounding her as she rested on her hands and knees.

Emily's eyes welled up with tears that threatening to spill, only she refused to let them fall, biting her lip and swearing loudly she begun collecting her belongings from the floor. Down on her hands and knees, and in a world completely that was her own.

"Fucking stupid city. This a total fucking disaster. I knew I should have stayed in fucking London."

Her ears never caught onto the sound of tires beginning to speed as the light did not become green, nor did she hear the deep voice of someone yelling at her as she remained in her spot. By chances, her eyes looked up, and for a split second the panic registered as a large truck – along with several taxis were speeding towards her.

It all happened in a flash then, far too quick for her to even register what was going on. One minute she was there, picking up her purse and useless maps, violin case beside her, and then she was dragged by the waist, almost flying through the air as someone had pulled her off the road. They rolled, her body now plastered to this person as they landed on the sidewalk, their heavy weight on top of her as her panicked mind attempted to make sense of the situation.

"What the…" her voice trailed off as she looked up to what she could call her rescuer, dark brown innocent eyes looked down at hers, face far too close for her liking. He attention was quickly averted, failing to take notice of the rest of her rescuers face, and instead her gaze fled back to road she had just been crouched on, her face falling in horror as she finally processed what had happened.

"Oh no, oh god please no." The stranger had lifted himself up before she had even begun her ramblings, and she struggled to pull herself up, already taking a step into the traffic once more without any sense etching its way, and her elbow being pulled on as she reeled back onto the pavement.

"Woah! Watch it there, I just dragged you out of tha-"

"Why did you do that?!" She screamed, tone reaching a new pitch as anger, panic, hysterical sadness and shock seemed into her, earning brief looks from passers by.

"What? I-I just … what - I just saved your _life_?"

The stranger was a boy, not seeming too old to Emily. His brown hair seemed to stick up in all directions, like he spent a large amount of time running his hands through it. His clothes just as shaggy as his facial appearance, hoody half zipped open, and dark coloured skinny jeans beginning to fade. The dumbfounded and slight irritation towards Emily's reaction was evident through his tone and facial expressions.

"Yeah, well I didn't ask you too! The cars would have stopped! Oh my god, all my shit!"

Emily turned away from the stranger, failing to see the raised eyebrow from the young man at her justification, tone now taking on one of slight amusement.

"Stopped? Clearly you haven't been in New York that long. They would have crushed you."

She reeled on him, eyes becoming daggers as her tone and voice raised, earning a wide-eyed look from him.

"You think this is a fucking _funny_? Are you taking the complete piss right now?!"

She fully turned away from him then, noticing the cars had now stopped to allow the pedestrians to walk across the street; she ran then, back to the same spot. Now pushing back towards the passers-by in her angry and frightened state, and it was exactly as she had predicted. Her once perfectly intact violin case was now crushed, and pieces of wood littered the floor, going beneath the cars along with bits of belongs from her handbag. She lifted it, the bag completely destroyed, she dug her hand into it and miraculously her purse still in there and intact.

"I think these are yours."

She looked up towards the stranger, who had followed her out onto the road, his hand extended and what seemed to be her keys encased within it. Bits of the map she had been using littered the road, and it was then she cracked.

"You fucking asshole."

She choked out, falling onto the floor bursting into tears. Hugging the purse to her chest and loudly sobbing, ignoring the honks from cars and yells from cab drivers as she held up the traffic.

For a moment Peter Parker simply stared dumbfounded as the crying mess on the floor, mouth slightly agape at her insults and slightly bipolar behaviour, and as he himself noticed the growing irritation of the divers around them he contemplated on what exactly he could say to get her out on the road. Despite her ungrateful nature and volatile language he wasn't exactly one to leave someone who was in clear need of help. He stopped as he begun to make out the words she was sobbing out to herself.

"I-I hate it here … I wan- want t- to go hom- home."

Sympathy filtered through his mind then, and his face softened at her words, it was already evident that she was foreign. Her accent proved that when she first spoke, and it seemed that her recent behaviour just now was some sort of boiling point for her, he concluded that she was most likely alone in the city and completely lost. In more ways than one.

He crouched down to the balls of his feet, staying in her line of vision as her hair finally fell free of its bun, bangs falling into her face as she sobbed. The tears making her eyeliner and mascara run, she was a complete a mess, and yet strangely adorable.

"Hey, it's okay."

She didn't reply, only continued sobbing, which caused Peter to reach into the pocket of his hoody, and withdraw a plain tissue. He held it out to her, close to her face in order for her to actually notice, and when she did her sobbing halted slightly. Tears stopped and only dry sobs continuing as she stared at the tissues, before looking to Peter in awe and taking it. She was silent for a moment as she blew her nose, wiping the tears from her cheeks as she shakily spoke of why she was crying so much.

"M-my violin … it's destroyed … I can't afford another one."

"You can tell me all about it; let's just get out of the road first, yeah?"

She nodded gingerly, and as her cheeks reddened in embarrassment at her crying in public, she took the hand Peter offered out to her as he helped her stand. He walked beside her as they finally got off the road, and onto the pavement. They stood in silence for a moment as they stared at each other, and Peter offered a friendly smile as he held out his hand for her to shake.

"I'm Peter."

She stared at it for a moment, before placing her own smaller one in his, "Emily."

He was a lot taller than her, and she had to look up at him, he was skinnier than she initially thought, though it didn't deter his appealing looks, it just made him look younger. Straps of a backpack were present on his shoulder, as she released her hand from his he finally handed back her keys, she took them. Thanking him softly as she put them in the pocket of her jeans, one hand still holding tightly onto her purse.

"I'm sorry," she softly said, averting her eyes out of shame, "I didn't mean to say all those things, I was being a prat. I was just lost, and upset about my violin and just…"

"Tired of the bullshit?"

She let out a softly laugh at Peter's response, earning a grin from him as she nodded her head in agreement.

"Tell me something, have you ever been to Queens?"

Her eyes made contact with his once more, seeing the sparkle of friendliness with them, and found herself shaking her head in no, only becoming confused as his grin widened at her response.

"So, where from England did you live?"

Emily remained silent for a moment as she chewed the rest of her apple pie, the diner Peter had brought her too in Queens was relatively quiet, he had claimed on his bad days their pie always lifted his spirits a bit. She thought that it was working, though she knew it was due to Peter's kindness more than the pie, and she had a feeling he was all too aware of that himself. She smiled slightly towards him, hands fiddling with the hem of her blazer as she sat back.

"London."

"The capital? Nice. I suppose it's not so different to New York."

"The people are a little nicer, that's for definite, although it's not a big stretch."

They chuckled together softly, and she looked down momentarily before releasing a long sigh, Peter waited patiently, understanding that was probably the first person she would be able to vent to since moving here.

"I didn't mean it when I said I hated it here … everything's just so bloody scary, I mean I understand that this is an amazing opportunity and It's my dream to be able to do what I love … but I'm alone, and away from home and it's the first time I haven't had my family just _there."_

He nodded in understanding, taking the last bite of his own pie before sitting back and relaxing, speaking as he chewed on it.

"So, which college do you go to?"

"Juilliard. They offered me a scholarship because I play the violin … took several tests and auditions and I had to work my ass off in the year leading up to it. But I miraculously ended up getting it. That's why I was so upset about my violin being destroyed."

"I'm sorry-"

"No, no, no don't even think about apologising. It was my own damn fault, if anything I should apologise to you for my behaviour-"

"You already did." Peter interjected in amusement, noticing her small smile at his comment as she continued.

"- and I should have thanked you profusely for saving my life, otherwise I would have ended up exactly like my violin."

They were silent for a moment, both pondering the same thing; how was she going to afford a new one? Peter felt bad of course; it was one thing to move out of your home, but another to move to a completely different country. He took this time to properly take in her appearance, her dark blonde hair was now pulled back into its bun, side bangs falling into her face slightly, and she had fixed up her make-up, washing it off in the bathroom when they had arrived, face now clear of it all. Small button nose, light pink lips, and if he was honest she was quite pretty.

However the slight blondness to her hair, and the accent of the country which she had originated from all reminded him of Gwen, painful memories that he tried all too hard to keep down, to not allow to consume him if he wanted to continue on without descending into a pit of darkness. Everything reminded him of Gwen, only this particular girl seemed to unintentionally rub it in his face, and he couldn't resent her for that, he only resented himself for allowing his mind to see those reminders.

"I guess I'm just gonna have to tell my mum and dad about the violin … god they're gonna kill me."

"I think if you mention that you almost got crushed by a truck in Times Square while it happened that they'd completely overlook the violin."

She chuckled softly, cheeks becoming a soft pink colour as she shook her head at Peter, and settled her gaze on him, tone soft and sincere as she thanked him once again.

He shrugged off her gratitude, insisting on her stopping it, as he already accepted her thanks and apology.

"Good pie, right?"

She nodded a little harder, "yeah, definitely made me feel a bit better, thanks for that as well- I'm sorry, I won't do that again." She cut herself off just as she watched him open his mouth, seeing the amusement on his facial expression, and waited for him to speak.

"You need to stop apologising too, it's all you did on the way here in the subway," she opened her mouth to apologise again, only to realise her mistake and stuck with smiling in agreement.

Peter stood then, pulling his backpack onto his shoulders once more, and digging his hands into his pockets as he nudged his head in the direction towards the door of the diner, she stood with him, already shrugging on her straightening out her shirt as she did so.

"I'll take you back to your dorm campus, can't exactly see you finding your way back in one piece … where are they?"

She laughed, not even attempting to playfully glare at his comment as they both knew he was right, "it's called the Meredith Wilson Residence," she stated, as if she had recited the name off by heart in order to never forget, "the Lincoln plaza?"

He nodded, already knowing the area as he held the door open for her, allowing her to step out of the diner first and onto the street, he followed behind, halting momentarily as she turned to face him.

"So, like, do you ever want to hang out again? In a totally platonic and without any hidden agenda way because I wouldn't want to potentially destroy the only possible friend I've made since I've moved here and who's actually been nice to me."

He laughed then, at her use of wording and rambling, being joined by her own soft laughter quickly enough as they began walking side-by-side.

"Sure," he laughed out, "we can hang out in a totally platonic way and without a hidden agenda."

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**Sorry guys who had previously faved/followed this, due to the swearing in the summary this story got deleted, but I re-uploaded it and removed the language from the summary! Once, again enjoy!**

**This chapter was originally a one shot/song fic, but recently an idea sparked in my head and this officially has become a chapter, and now the chapter I have posted before this is an opening prologue, so if you previously followed or favourited this please go and read it! I hope you enjoy and please review!**

**Thanks for taking the time to read this, it was so much fun to write! **


	3. Chapter Two

_"Friendship consists in forgetting what one gives and remembering what one receives." – Alexander Dumas_

* * *

"How did you not love it?! It was awesome! The acting and CG was top notch, the movie was damn near faultless."

Peter laughed off Emily's statement, as if all of what she had just said was ridiculous. She was smiling too, in no way offended by his patronisation, but enjoyed it when the occasion called for it in their newfound banter.

"Really?" He asked sceptically, walking slightly ahead of her out of the theatre, releasing his skateboard onto the floor and resting it beneath his foot as he came to stop in front of her, "come on, London, do you not realise the amount of faults in that? Some of it was scientifically inaccurate! Not to mention the plot holes and contradiction in the script!"

Emily rolled her eyes, ignoring the new nickname he had adopted for her, shaking her head at him; brown eyes alight with amusement and fondness over his nerdy knowledge in science, "scientifically inaccurate? It's a _film_, Peter. When has anything in a film been even the slightest bit realistic?!"

"That's not the point!" He exclaimed, arms extending out to emphasize his statement, "Ridley Scott just totally trashed everything he created with the Alien movies by making the Space Jockey a basic blue giant human!"

"Correction; Damon Lindelof did, and what do you expect from a man who wrote possibly the most predictable and anti-climactic series ending to 'LOST'?!"

"Don't even get me _started _on Lindelof, I can't forgive him for that, I'll never be able to forget my heartache."

Emily laughed loudly, both in humour and slight shock at Peter's opinion, one similar to her own. They clashed a lot, especially when it came to personal interests, but somehow they enjoyed that, it was how they clicked.

"I know right?! All I wanted to do was throw my telly out of the window!"

They stood there laughing for a little longer, Peter's gaze cast down to his skateboard, while Emily's concentrated on the traffic on the street, smile present as their laughter died down a little. It had been a little over a month since he had saved her life, and eventually became friends, and now Emily could say she was thankful for it. For more than just not losing her life, but because she genuinely liked Peter as a person, and despite the lack of common interests between them which caused them on more than one occasion to class in opinion, Emily found things they did have in common; food and bad humour.

Peter could be surprisingly sarcastic a majority of the time, and Emily quickly became accustomed to it, even becoming one of her favourite attributes. The time she had spent with Peter caused more laughter than the several months she had spent alone in New York before coming across him, so yes, Emily was very thankful for Peter Parker saving her ass that day.

Peter looked back up to Emily, their eyes meeting as a knowing grin spread across his face, "hungry?"

"Starving." She countered quickly, already aware of where this was going.

"Fajitas?"

"Big Mac?"

"Pizza?"

"Sold."

He laughed at her response, running a hand through his already messy hair, watching as she quickly began walking down the sidewalk, away from the theatre and towards the subway station. He begun moving on his skateboard then, easily falling in line with her, hands resting at his side as he slowly rolled down the pavement.

"I still think Prometheus was awesome." She commented, small smile playing on her lips.

"Well, you already admitted the writer sucks, so I automatically win."

"What?! When did that rule ever come up? Piss off; neither of us wins this round."

"But you did admit it!"

"That doesn't mean you win! The rules are if one of us admits to the _film_ sucking after a debate, then the other wins, all I said was that the writer wrote a shit ending for LOST!"

Peter shrugged nonchalantly, attempting to hide the smile that was emerging as he kept his gaze ahead of them, "I still win, London."

"Shut up."

He chuckled loudly then, watching as she dramatically walked ahead of him to the stairs down into the subway. Darkness had descended upon New York, and despite it still being warm towards the end of September, a slight breeze had come in, one that had been absent during the day. Emily's hands rested within the pockets of her light blue hoodie, unzipped and showing the plain white polo shirt she wore beneath, skinny jeans tucked into her plain high tops.

She waited at the bottom of the steps for Peter, watching as he strapped his skateboard to his backpack, and placed it on his bag once more. She had asked once what his attachment to the raggedy bag was about, and his argument had been that it contained things he needed, though she failed to see exactly what since it looked practically empty of any contents, as well as the fact he never actually used it when she was around.

Her mind quickly moved on from the subject as he jumped down the steps two at a time, always extremely light on his feet, he landed perfectly after jumping the last four, seeming far from out of breath.

"Training for the ballet, Potter?" Peter rewarded Emily with an amused grin and middle finger, stalking past her as she chuckled at his response, and hooked an arm through his as they began walking down the tunnels.

It was a faint sound, almost as if it were a whisper of the wind, and Emily would have probably never even noticed the distant sound of sirens had Peter not halted in his tracks. They were only a few feet away from the staircase leading back up to the streets of New York, the sounds of traffic and laughter from others as night descended made it just that much harder to make out the distant sound of Police cars. Emily's attention to it faded almost instantly, distracted by the hand that smacked to Peter's forehead, his lips set in a grim line, and his hand proceeded to run down his face slowly.

"Crap," he stated, "I was meant to pick up some stuff for my Aunt May, before the store closed."

Emily was silent for a moment, failing to understand why he seemed to see this as bad news, and she offered a small smile before speaking.

"That's cool, we'll just go get it and then grab a bite to eat."

"No!" He interrupted, easing her linked arm out of his, a casual smile on his lips as he already begun taking a step back, "It's fine I'll go pick it up quickly and meet you at Ramirez? Just go ahead and order for us, too!"

"I don't get why-"

"I have my board, so I'll be real quick! I promise! Call me if you get lost!"

And with that Peter had already climbed the stairs at an alarming rate, the echo of his voice fading as he disappeared. Emily stood there for a moment, laughing softly at his strange behaviour, only he always seemed to forget he had promised to do things for his Aunt. She turned, heading deeper into the subway station, now oblivious to the forgotten sound of police sirens in the city above.

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**A short one to just establish Peter and Emily's friendship, I'm hoping to make this into a short fic, like one that consists of only ten chapters or something, I have waaaay too many stories I need to finish off. But I do enjoy this!**

**Let me know what you think in the reviews! **


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